A Tale of Two Nations —by Ibrahim

(Written post-Wagah)

A Tale of Two Nations

Sunday, March 25^th, Wagah Border Ceremony:

Cheers, drums, and music filled our ears as we approached what seemed to be a cauldron of passion at the border between India and Pakistan just west of Amritsar. As we entered, the sun was picturesquely glistening over the twin stadiums at the border. Each arena seemed to be designed specifically to upstage the other, with intense militaristic imagery on both sides. On the road leading to the border, I couldn't help but feel that the event was almost treated as an advertisement for India’s BSF (Border Security Force). In the stadium itself a massive poster, showcasing the BSF’s top general and reading “India’s first line of defense,” was angled directly at the seating of Pakistan’s border. Of course, Pakistan had its own military recruitment imagery framed in an incredibly similar way, showing off the Pakistan Rangers in English and Urdu. It was incredible how every single aspect of the retreat ceremony was done with incredible cooperation from both sides, yet with the goal of outdoing the other in displays of fervent nationalism. This ran as deep as the angling of the speakers that projected chants, with Indian viewers only able to hear “Vande Mataram!” and Pakistani viewers confined to “Pakistan Zindabad!”. Even in the rare moments where one side’s chant would briefly fall silent, the sound of a roaring crowd would be blasted over the speakers simply to block sound from the opposing side. 

In many ways, the border ceremonyt reflected the nature of the two nations interestingly. On the Pakistani side, the non-secular nature of the nation was displayed very clearly, with religious chants being accepted as the norm and even verses of the Quran being recited before the ceremony. This contrast was very prominent for me personally as half of my family is Indian, and the other half is Pakistani. I joked with some friends beforehand that I had better keep my mouth shut during the chanting for fear of “choosing a side.” In a way it was almost sad, because it was a physical manifestation of my identity displayed before me, but in the context of rivalry and borderline hatred. 

As I watched the ceremony unfold, I felt very much caught in the crossfire. Although I have immense pride for both my Indian and Pakistani heritage, I couldn’t participate in any of it as it was almost explicitly deemed mutually exclusive. The only brief moment of unity between the two nations was a firm handshake between two of the guards as the gate was opened. Otherwise, the ceremony consisted of intense posturing, with guards on both sides quite literally flexing their muscles at each other to the roars of their compatriots. 

Personally, I believe that this narrative of eternal competition and otherness between is inherently false. Even in the chaos and violence of partition, compassion shined through the mobs of religious fanatics roving from village to village and contributing to the slaughter of millions. My own grandmother for example, exchanged her home in Amritsar, India with a Sikh family living in Faisalabad, Pakistan to ensure the safety of both families. I believe this legacy of unity still shines through the generations after partition in the everyday lives of Indian’s and Pakistanis (my parents did marry each other for Pete’s sakes). 

I don’t think enough people realize how close the two nations really are in terms of history and culture. If you ask a Pakistani who their favorite actor or actress is, I could almost guarantee they would name a Bollywood star. However, many of these Bollywood stars vibrantly dance to songs sung by Pakistani musicians. While there are minor differences in Pakistani and India culture, these differences are caused by isolation from the other nation. This isolation has only deepened the animosity between the two countries and unfortunately cost too many lives. Despite this hatred, I truly believe that both countries are far more alike than they care to admit. —Ibrahim A.